| Well its high noon at the U.K. corral,
|
| & its high time I got myself back on the rails,
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| I’m the lonesome cowboy, ridin across the range,
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| With just a hand held radio--to keep me sane,
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| Ridin through the f.m. |
| stations, the tumbleweed,
|
| & the petrol stations,
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| Will all on board this yankee station
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| Prepare themselves for battle stations--
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| CHORUS
|
| Jesus Wept. |
| Jesus CHRIST.
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| I can’t see for the tear gas, & the dollar signs in my eyes.
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| Well, whats a man got left to fight for
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| when he’s bought his freedom
|
| By the look of this human jungle
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| It aint just the poor who’ll be bleeding!
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| Most everyone round here thinks they’re something special
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| That destiny will be kind--
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| While they’re digging for gold, diving for pearls,
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| & aiming for heaven from this man made world.
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| Come on down--the devil’s in town
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| He’s brought you sticks and stones
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| to bust your neighbors bones,
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| He’s stuck his missiles in your gardens,
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| & his theories down your throat--
|
| & god knows what your gonna do with him
|
| Cos I certainly don’t
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| CHORUS
|
| Down by the river, I’ve been washing out my mouth,
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| Cos deep in the heart of me there’s a frightened man breaking out.
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| Oh I was just looking for paradise
|
| anywhere in this world
|
| While they’re gunning for heaven--
|
| from this man made hell!!!
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| Angels of Destruction.
|
| Angels of Destruction!!! |